Superstition and Memories
by Rapunzel4
Summary: Arthur has a superstitious moment, and Merlin's hat finally gets what it deserves.


Note: Set immediately after the episode "The Poisoned Chalice."

Summary: Arthur has a superstitious moment, and Merlin's hat finally gets what it deserves.

Superstition and Memories

By Rapunzel

For the first few hours after he's released from the dungeons, Arthur is kept fairly busy. He's present for the release of King Bayard and his retainers, and watches with his father and Morgana as their guests/prisoners make their way out of Camelot. Then of course, once all of those formalities are done, he makes his way up to Gauis' chambers to check on his manservant. The sight of Merlin, looking pale and tired, and so frail with the blanket drawn over his shoulders, makes something inside of Arthur squeeze painfully. It reminds him too much of how Merlin looked when he left, pale and sweating and only inches from death's door.

Normally Arthur would pick on Merlin, chide him for being lazy or blame him for being responsible (albeit indirectly) for getting his prince thrown in the dungeons. However, with that memory fresh in his mind, Arthur does none of this. After all, one can hardly accuse someone who almost died of being lazy, and it wasn't really Merlin's fault he ended up in the dungeons. It isn't as though Merlin had even asked him to fetch the antidote that he might live. So instead of his usual, critical words, Arthur simply tells him to get some rest, all the while trying to focus on the positive aspects of the situation (Merlin is feeling well enough to sit up on his own, to eat, to carry on a conversation with Arthur; Merlin is getting better, well enough to resume his duties the next day) instead of letting the memories of the last week creep back into his mind. He is fairly successful, and manages to leave Gauis' rooms in a fairly good mood.

The mood only lasts until he gets back to his own chambers and sees it.

The hat.

It's resting innocuously enough on the top of his dresser. Some thoughtful servant must have found it in the banquet room after all of the fuss and excitement was over and returned it to his room while he was gone. Ordinarily, he would have appreciated such attention to detail, but right now he isn't sure he ever wants to see that hat again.

The hat is his, of course, given to him as a present by some dignitary from a neighboring kingdom who had terrible fashion sense. He'd lied to Merlin (obviously) about it being a standard part of the Camelot servant's uniform; no servant would normally wear a hat with that many feathers in it. Feathered hats took money, money implied power, and servants usually had little enough of either. He is pretty sure Merlin suspects him of pulling his leg too, but of course he can't do anything about it. If one's prince tells one to wear a given hat to a banquet, one wears the given hat to the banquet, no matter how stupid it looks.

He still smiles slightly as he remembers Merlin standing off to the sidelines at the banquet, wearing that ridiculous excuse for headwear and glowering silently at him in a way that promises retribution of some sort. He has no doubt that, if later events had not distracted everyone, Merlin would have found some way to get back at him for the humiliation. The amusing memory is almost enough to blot out his memory of the events that came after.

Almost.

Of course, Merlin hadn't actually been wearing the hat when the dreadful events took place, but that doesn't really matter. Everything to do with that banquet is now seared into his mind and it all leads back to one set of memories. Merlin, choking suddenly, face contorted in pain. Merlin, falling to the floor, barely breathing, and completely unresponsive to all efforts to rouse him. Merlin dying.

It shouldn't bother him this much. Merlin is a manservant, and not even a particularly good one. He could easily find a dozen other people ready and eager to take the position if he chooses. And his father had been right; men have died trying to protect him before, and undoubtedly more will do so in the future. But the thought of Merlin being among those dead is intolerable, especially when Arthur knows that he can save him.

Arthur picks up the hat, turning it in his hands and watching with a detached sort of fascination as the feathers shake with even the slightest movement. For a moment he considers throwing it out the window and watching it flutter down to be trampled in the courtyard below, or ripping all of the ornate feathers off and tearing them to pieces. Then he tells himself he's being stupid and tosses the hat derisively onto his table. He pointedly doesn't look at it again as he prepares to go to bed.

That night he tosses and turns fitfully and dreams of Merlin choking in pain in a sea of red cloth and feathers.

He wakes to the sounds of Merlin bustling around his room, setting out his breakfast plate, and is mildly surprised. Usually he wakes before his incompetent manservant has a chance to get to his room, which means that either he overslept or Merlin was serious (for once) when he said he'd be there bright and early.

"Good morning, Sire," Merlin says. His voice lacks some of his usual cheer, but he doesn't sound unhappy either. Probably still tired, Arthur decides. Despite his orders for Merlin to rest, he still has dark circles under his eyes, and his already pale skin is a little paler than Arthur would like it. Still, it's an improvement on the previous evening, and Arthur is certain that Gaius would not permit Merlin to work if he truly thought him unfit for it.

Arthur watches his manservant setting the table without comment and notices the moment Merlin discovers the hat. His brow scrunches up in confusion for a moment, then he recognizes the offending piece of clothing and his mouth turns down in a frown. "I see you found the hat," he says, and the tone of his voice sounds somewhere between disappointed and irritated.

"Yes, one of the servants returned it while I was gone," Arthur says, still watching him.

Merlin scowls, first at the hat, then at Arthur. "I suppose you're going to try to make me wear it to the next formal occasion, then?" he asks, clearly getting ready to argue the issue.

Arthur feels his throat go dry for a moment. The thought of making Merlin wear that hat ever again feels too much like a bad omen. He's already sat through two formal banquets where Merlin had to step up to save his life; who knows what's going to happen at the next one?

"Burn it," he says suddenly, and with a vehemence that surprises him. It's stupid, really. He's just being superstitious. His father would no doubt have a few choice things to say about that. But his father isn't here. And really, it isn't as if anyone will actually miss the atrocious thing.

Merlin certainly won't, if the hopeful expression on his face is any indication. "Are you serious?" he asks, slightly confused by this demand, but more than ready to comply with it if Arthur repeats the order.

"I'm serious," Arthur says. "Burn it."

The last of the confusion bleeds out of Merlin's face, and he looks positively gleeful. "All right," he says with a little too much enthusiasm. Then he strides over to the fireplace and chucks the hat into the flames, watching with perverse satisfaction as it burns. Small, charred bits of feather drift up from the fireplace to float around his face, but he doesn't seem to care.

"Good riddance," Merlin mutters, just loud enough for him to hear.

Arthur gets up and walks over to stand beside him, watching the fabric darken and shrivel in the flames.

Merlin turns slightly to look at him. "Not that I'm complaining," he says, "but why did you want to burn it?"

"It was ruined," Arthur replies.

"Ruined?" Merlin says, confused again. "It looked fine to me."

"Oh, sorry, did you want to wear it again?" Arthur asks with a faint smirk, deliberately misinterpreting what he says.

"No!" Merlin says hastily. "No, no, that's fine. If you say it was ruined, I'm sure it was ruined. Besides," he adds, "I noticed none of the other servants had to wear hats like that."

Arthur thinks that he was right; Merlin is onto him, but it doesn't matter. He's the prince, and if he says something is so, there's not a lot Merlin can do about it.

"Well, but you aren't just any servant," he says. "You're _my_ manservant. You have to stand out somehow. Without disgracing me, of course."

"And having me appear in that stupid hat wasn't disgraceful?" Merlin asks, skeptically.

"What, you didn't like it?" Arthur asks, feigning surprise and mock hurt. "I'll just have to find something even more attention-drawing for the next banquet, then."

Merlin starts to protest, and Arthur lets him go on without really listening. Superstition or no, he doesn't regret burning the hat. He feels better now. Better, because the ordeal is over. Because the hat has been destroyed.

Because Merlin really is okay.

And after all, he can always find another ridiculous outfit to force him into next time.


End file.
